The glass smashes. The blood drips. I sit in the corner of my bathroom, streaks of red crimson running down my knuckles and onto my clothes and the floor, after repeatedly punching my bathroom mirror until there was no glass left. Tears well up in my eyes but not because of the pain. It’s tears of anger. Betrayed once again by a boyfriend who decided he would rather stick his dick in some whore, than come back home. What’s wrong with me? Why does always let this happen to me? I get up off of the floor, stepping over the shattered glass and walk into the bed room of my apartment. I take a seat at the desk and snort one of the several lines of cocaine that has already been sorted out on the desk’s surface. I clench my eyes together at first but then ease up, as I let the white, powdery, substance make it’s way through my body. I open up one of the desk’s drawers and pull out a music box. I open it up and a small, ceramic, horse pops up and begins to spin around, as the soft, melodic, almost eerie music plays throughout the room.

Hailey Homicide: So pretty…

I run my hands, softly, over the music box, taking in each melodic note that exudes from the tiny gift that was given to me from my mother when I was a young child.

Hailey Homicide: Would you like to know, what this music box has in common with any competitor I come up against? Hmm?

I start to smirk a little bit.

Hailey Homicide: That with the littlest of ease, I can turn take the pretties things in the world…

I pick up the music box, holding it gently in my hands, gazing at the horse as it makes it’s rounds.

Hailey Homicide: …And leave them broken and ugly.

With that, my smirk disappears, as I hurl the music box across the room, smashing it into pieces when it hit’s the wall. I never wanted to look at that fucking thing again. I hated my mother. The less I have to remind me of her, the better.

Hailey Homicide: That’s what I’m going to do to you, Jetta. I’m going to take your pretty little face… And I’m going to leave it broken and ugly. Quite simply because I hate you.

I let out a slight little laugh out of amusement.

Hailey Homicide: How can I hate you, when I’ve never met you? It’s quite simple. You’re just like all the other girls out there. You know the ones that act pure and innocent, like you’re better than I am. I know you look down on me. I know that, when you look at me, all you see is a tattooed up, coked out, erotic, psychotic, whore. I’m different. I’m not like you, so you look down upon me. You’re no different than the other girls. I know you haven’t exactly had an easy past but save your sob story, bitch. I don’t want to hear it. You think you’ve had a rough life? You wouldn’t last one day in my life. Past or present. Because the worst day of your life? Would be in the top 5 best of mine. So this is what’s going to happen. I’m going to take your pasty, stuck up, prissy little ass and I’m going to fuck you up. That’s not a threat. That’s a promise.

I turn my head, to look out of my bed room window. I gaze out of it my drugged up stupor until I eventually just pass out in the chair.

+ End Scene. +

OOC: Sorry for this absolutely awful RP. I just had/have a lot to do and needed to get something done while I could.

Here I was in my locker room getting ready to make my debut in the Pro Wrestling Project Federation. When I signed on the dotted line to be a part of it all, I got the chance to meet Josh C. Duncan, the "chief of the island" if you will, and he seemed like one of the good guys. A man who knows how to take initiative and produce an excellent show. This was something new for my career and it was going to be interesting to meet new opponents who would challenge me in that ring. Opponents like Hailey Homicide who I would be fighting this week. But from what I had learned about her so far… this wasn’t going to be a problem.

Just a half hour to go and then I would be out there entertaining the fans just like I always did. They loved me and I loved them. And they loved me even more now that I was the PWSi Vixxxen’s Champion. Everywhere I went, my fans showed their support for me. But my biggest fan was standing right beside me at the moment as I finished my warmup routine before the match. Wherever I was, my mom was never far behind.

“I’m glad you decided to be here for my first match in this company. You didn’t have to be.”

Lycra: “I want to enjoy the journey of watching my daughter venture through her career. I missed out on watching you grow up. I will not miss out on any more of your life. I want to share with you events like this where you’re expanding your experiences and making yourself even more of a force to be reckoned with.”

I had to agree with her.

“And I’m succeeding very well so far. I can only hope to be as great as you in that ring. It’s what I’m striving for.”

She smiled a bit.

Lycra: “Well then… we shall see.”

I walked over to where my championship belt was draped over the back of the chair. I picked it up and stared down at it.

“If my title was on the line tonight against this girl, she would not be taking this from me. She will not defeat me.”

My mom came up beside me.

Lycra: “I know she won’t. She’s an amateur. You’ve got experience on your side and you’re a champion. BUT… do not underestimate her. Keep the pressure on throughout the match and stay focused.”

“I’ve seen footage of her. She looks weird. Her eyes… Her eyes have nothing behind them. It’s as if she’s just a walking shell with no goodness or love on the inside.”

Lycra: “Maybe she wasn’t loved by anyone. Maybe she has no family who cares. That can leave you empty inside.”

“She snorts cocaine. That fucks up your mind and your body. She won’t be able to think straight… if she’ll even be able to think at all.”

Lycra: “And that is when you take advantage and you finish her. She will slip up easily and in no time at all if she comes to this match strung out.”

“I’ll be able to see it if she is. The signs will be there. But if she is an addict, it’s just a shame that someone so young is throwing their life away to drugs. I mean… she can kill herself.”

She took a step closer to me.

Lycra: “Some people feel that they have nothing left to live for. But whatever her problems are… they are not your problems. Do not walk into this feeling sorry for her. You must keep your guard up against her. Show her who the better woman is.”

“I will. She’s a zombie… and I know how to handle zombies. A few minutes in the ring with me and my speed and energy… she won’t know what hit her. She won’t know where she’s at.”

My mom gave me that look that she had been giving me for a couple of months now. It was like a look of admiration.